


Dawn of the Jackalopes

by Silbrith



Series: Crossed Lines [13]
Category: Supernatural, White Collar (TV 2009)
Genre: Adventure, Father's Day, Gen, Urban Fantasy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-12 13:26:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29510355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silbrith/pseuds/Silbrith
Summary: Supernatural events abound during a vacation in the Nebraska Panhandle. June 2006. Locations: Nebraska, New Haven, Los Angeles. Fluff: Father's Day.
Series: Crossed Lines [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/513628
Comments: 4
Kudos: 7





	1. The Trouble with Tribbles

**Somewhere in a Nebraska cornfield. Sunday, June 18, 2006.**

"Status report!" Mozzie shook the two-way radio. All he heard was static. Confound it, Travis was probably out of range.

This latest crop circle was so large that he and Travis had split up to investigate. Would this circle contain the so-far elusive documentary evidence of extraterrestrials?

Never had Mozzie been so smug about having convinced White Collar's tech expert and—more importantly—SETI working committee member to join him on this road trip. For the past several months, reports of bright lights in the sky and crop circles had floated into the ether from the Nebraska Panhandle. There'd been one extremely regrettable instance of a cow mutilation. As a dedicated ufologist, Mozzie had kept his eyes and ears tuned to the chatter, no matter whether the source was a reputable newspaper account or a tabloid panderer of salacious rumors.

With the approach of summer, it had become irrefutable that the Panhandle was getting more than its share of ufological phenomena. But what with the skyrocketing success of his scriptwriting career, there hadn't been any free slots in his calendar for fieldwork . . . until now, that is.

The wedding of Neal's friend and fellow musketeer Aidan Phillips to Keiko Nakahara in Los Angeles provided a convenient justification. Travis's partner Richard was working at the L.A. Scima campus during the summer months. Why would Travis want to fly to the wedding when he could instead hit the open road with Mozzie? A true shame that Janet hadn't been able to join them. Mozzie's girlfriend and nature-lover would have loved their rambles, but she was in the midst of preparations for a Broadway musical. So it was just him and Travis— the Two Amigos. They were traveling in an RV loaner, camping under the stars, stopping for provisions at quaint hamlets, while always on the lookout for unexplained phenomena.

There had been a time not so many months earlier that Mozzie would have predicted it would be the Three Amigos. The unexpected departure from Columbia University of Quint Worland, Mozzie's apprentice in tunnel exploration and fellow SETI enthusiast was a loss. The lad had so much potential. He alone of the SETI group had embraced Mozzie's theories on tunnel slime and its connection to alien fractals. Mozzie had attempted to contact him after Quint dropped out at the end of the fall semester, but the university had seemingly expunged his records. The circumstances were suspicious, but there were only so many mysteries one man could tackle at a time.

A couple of days ago, Mozzie and Travis stopped near Scotts Bluff National Park in the peaceful town of Gering for supplies. It was there they heard about a newly discovered crop circle north of town. The cornfield covered several acres. It was the most provocative site they'd found so far. Since the corn stalks were lush and green, the pattern was difficult to discern from the ground. He and Travis were in a maze of maize. Mozzie chuckled. Travis would appreciate that. Why had he failed to respond? Sunset was approaching. Soon they'd have to cease their explorations and hope lights in the sky would beckon them onward.

"Travis, do you copy?" he barked into the radio.

"Yeah, did you find something?"

"Not so far, I . . ."

"Repeat that," Travis said. "I didn't catch the ending . . . Mozzie?"

Mozzie licked his lips, a few honey-infused crumbs still on them from the cookie he'd been munching. He blinked, swallowed, and blinked again. Were those eyes peeking out from behind the cornstalk? They looked enormous, so big they appeared to be non-human. At only three feet off the ground, whoever they belonged to had the height of a child. "Come to my coordinates," he whispered into the radio.

Mozzie softened his features into an easy smile. "Hello, little friend. Are you lost?" He reached slowly into his knapsack for a cookie and held it out enticingly on the palm of his hand. "Perhaps you're hungry? This is very good. It's made with almonds and honey." As he talked, he inched his way closer.

The head began to emerge from the cornstalk. The little one had no hair. Such appealing eyes. Had the child undergone chemotherapy? Perhaps they suffered from a physical disorder such as progeria. The wrinkling pattern was the most extreme he'd ever encountered.

Mozzie froze in place. This was no child. No human had a neck like that. They looked like E.T. Could this possibly be first contact?

Would they be frightened if he reached for his camera? He had to try, in the name of science and of Earthlings everywhere. Mozzie's heart was racing so fast, it was a wonder he didn't lose consciousness. Only his superior physique was keeping him upright.

The entity was now fully visible. They were naked with a relatively long torso and short stubby legs. E.T. in the flesh!

Mozzie placed his right hand on his heart. "You can trust me. I desire only the peaceful interchange of knowledge." He then held out his hand, palm up. "I extend my hand in friendship." He waited breathlessly for their response.

The alien reached out their bony hand. The tip of their index finger glowed bright red. They gently touched Mozzie's palm and . . .

Jumping Jehoshaphat! E.T's mouth opened into a shark's jaw with razor-sharp teeth! Mozzie screamed as they clamped onto his hand and bit down.

#

Travis quickened his pace when he heard Mozzie's shriek. What had terrified him? Likely he was suffering from heatstroke. They'd been tramping all day under the hot sun. Mozzie was undoubtedly dehydrated. What rational man carries honey wine in his water bottle?

After a week of chasing down sighting reports, they'd come up blank yet again. This goose was cooked. The snatches Travis had heard from the two-way radio logically led to only one conclusion. Mozzie had gone over the UFO-fever-induced edge and was hanging onto the cliff by his fingernails.

Neal, Sara, and the Burkes were vacationing at a guest ranch near Scotts Bluff to celebrate Father's Day. They were only a couple of hours away. Travis would probably be able to persuade Mozzie to visit them. Then he could ask Neal for advice. He wished he'd kept the reservations he'd made earlier, but the guest ranch might have vacancies. Travis longed for a full-sized bed, shower, and clean towels. Didn't Mozzie too?

Travis turned a corner in the crop circle. It was quite a fascinating pattern with many side branches. He'd been using a GPS locator to trace the route.

A rustle of stalks caught his attention. Likely a ground-feeding bird, but it could be a corn snake. He shouldn't dally, but Mozzie would survive a minute's delay. Travis scanned the stalks and caught a glimpse of . . . What was that? About the size of a squirrel if it was rolled into a ball. The fur was peach-colored and gave it a soft fluffy appearance. Was it the one making the faint trilling sound?

Travis gasped as realization set in. A tribble? He reached for his camera, but the creature had already vanished. As he crouched down, he heard faint moans coming from the two-way radio. "Mozzie, what's your status?" he whispered.

"Recovering. Why aren't you here yet?"

Travis hesitated. Until he had documentation, he wasn't about to become the laughing stock of White Collar. Tribbles were fictitious, a brilliant invention of _Star Trek_ writers. There were no tribbles in Nebraska cornfields.

And yet there it was. The tribble bounced into view for another brief moment. "I'll be there shortly," Travis muttered. _Just as soon as I document my tribble._

He parted the stalks and left the path. Tribbles didn't normally move fast. Could he entice it closer? He trilled softly, hoping it would soothe the creature. He heard heavy breathing to his right. He spun around and spotted the tribble halfway up the stalk.

Travis just beamed at it, no doubt looking like an idiot, but who wouldn't grin at a tribble? A blinding flash of light caused him to blink. When he opened his eyes, a soccer-ball-sized fireball had taken the tribble's place.

Travis swallowed down the fear. The surface appeared to be chunks of cinder with molten fire pulsating within.

The heat grew more intense. Without warning the cornstalks surrounding him caught fire. He was in the center of a blazing inferno. The fireball flew straight at him.

#

Sara raised her leg to show Neal the constellation sock she was proudly wearing. He'd given her the socks for their first stargazing session last night. Sara had flown to New York from London on Friday. They'd taken the same flight with Peter and Elizabeth to Denver where they rented a car for the drive to the guest ranch.

Neal started the star-themed sock tradition a year ago on Father's Day when he and the Burkes celebrated the occasion on the eve of an astronomy camp. This year they were also stargazing—this time minus the kids but with a few extra bonuses.

Mozzie had discovered the guest ranch. In addition to stargazing, it offered fossil-hunting and horseback riding, the ideal combination of pursuits for Peter who was an avid enthusiast of all three activities. As for Neal . . . 

"Are you still sore?" Sara asked.

"Not as long as I'm lying down," Neal said diplomatically. "Tomorrow I may sketch the rest of you riding off into the prairie." The guest ranch had old-fashioned wood loungers to sprawl on for stargazing. Luckily the cushions were luxuriously padded as if they had sore tenderfeet in mind.

"You wouldn't be so stiff if you'd ridden on an English saddle," Sara declared, slanting a quick smile at Peter.

"Nonsense," he retorted quickly. "Western saddles are far more comfortable." He turned to Elizabeth. "Aren't they?"

"It wouldn't be fair for me to judge," she hedged, "since I've never experienced an English saddle. For our first lesson, I think Neal and I acquitted ourselves quite well."

"I do too," Neal quickly agreed. "I graduated from the carousel to a real horse and didn't fall off once. This may be a good time to quit while I'm ahead." Before Peter could counter, he shoved him onto another topic, lobbing him a softball. "Unless they have wings, that is. When does Pegasus rise in the sky?"

From astro camp, he remembered the constellation wouldn't be up till much later. But this was Father's Day, a time for Peter to take center stage whether the subject was dinosaurs, horses, or the stars.

Sara reached over and clasped his hand as they gazed up at the night sky while Peter pointed out the constellations. Last year, Neal had just broken up with his ex-girlfriend Fiona. Now he and Sara were a couple. What would happen to the four of them over the next year? Peter and Elizabeth wanted to start a family. They'd have to hurry if they wanted Baby Burke to be around for Father's Day 2007. More likely, Elizabeth would be pregnant. As for him and Sara, much depended on the week ahead.

"The campfire feast was superb," Neal said, taking a sip of his root beer float, a ranch specialty. "And all the activities were fantastic. There's only one thing we need to make Father's Day complete."

"What's that?" Peter asked. "Don't tell me you miss Mozzie?"

"Well, he is family," he pointed out calmly, ignoring his snort. "But I was thinking of the Winchesters. I can still picture your look when they strolled into the restaurant last year."

Elizabeth chuckled. "I thought Peter was going to duck out through the kitchen. Sara, that was my introduction to Dean, Sam, and Chloe."

"I'd love for them to drop in this year," Sara said, "but no vampires, please. Neal told me about what happened in New Jersey. Having to curtail our activities because of a fang alert would be just sad."

"I'm confident we won't have a repetition," Peter asserted. "Nebraska hasn't had a sighting in over a hundred years."

"Are you sure?" Neal asked, winking at Sara. She knew Peter called him a vampire magnet.

"Yep, I checked," he said smugly. "The last vampire sighting was in 1895 when a cowboy reported his cattle were attacked by one."

"Your hypothesis is flawed," Neal said. "Vampires live forever. They could simply be waiting till we show up."

Peter groaned. "This is payback for making you ride that additional hour."

"Of course not," Neal protested. "As your trusted consultant, I felt honor-bound to point out your incorrect assumption."

"Where was the attack in 1895?" Sara asked.

"Dawes County," Peter promptly replied. "That's close to two hours north of us."

Neal laughed. "I can't believe you actually researched sightings."

"Well, yeah. This is a road trip, after all. Our history with road trips has been plagued with supernatural creatures."

"Then you'll be happy to know Dean Winchester isn't far away," Elizabeth said calmly.

Peter's mouth dropped. "Why should I be happy about that? If he's here, that means trouble is too. Has he already called to alert you?"

"Wrong on both counts," she declared. "I got an email from Mozzie's girlfriend Janet yesterday. Janet mentioned that Chloe persuaded Dean to be her plus one at her high school reunion in Gering. The event was last night. I checked the morning paper, and there were no reports of vampires or any other monsters at the reunion, so you can relax."

"Was Chloe the one who told Mozzie about the guest ranch?" Sara asked Neal.

"No, he found it on his own," Neal said. "He chanced upon it when he was planning his cross-country trip with Travis."

"I wonder where they are now," Elizabeth mused.

"Likely far away, looking for unidentified blips." Neal wasn't worried. Dean and Chloe being in town was simply a random coincidence. Despite Peter's assertions to the contrary, true coincidences were known to occur.

_"Yip, yip, yip, yip, ar-oooooh!"_

Neal flinched. "What was that? Wolves?"

"Hardly," Peter scoffed. "More likely coyotes."

"Definitely coyotes," Sara agreed. "I used to hear them in California. They sound close."

Neal stood up. "I've never seen a coyote in the wild. Let's try to find them."

Only Sara joined him in his quest. El said she was too comfortable to move, but Neal suspected an ulterior motive. Both she and Peter were being considerate to let Neal and Sara have time alone, plus Elizabeth understood that for Peter, coyotes couldn't compare to the night sky.

"Don't wander off too far," Peter warned as they headed away from the viewing area.

"You're not worried about vampires, are you?" Neal mocked.

"No, rattlesnakes."

"Oh."

Sara waved her flashlight at Peter. "We'll be on the lookout for snakes and anything else crossing our path." She turned to Neal. "The howls are coming from behind the barn. I bet we won't have to go very far."

"On the prowl for coyotes with my sweetheart," Neal crooned. "Doesn't that sound like a country song?"

She laughed. "With a few yips in the chorus? You should record it. It would go gold."

They sneaked up to the barn. Neal hoped their flashlights didn't scare the critters off.

Sara stopped suddenly and let out a gasp. "A giraffe?" A wide smile broke out on her face.

"What giraffe?" Neal demanded. "Where are you looking?"

She pointed to a tree beyond the barn. "Don't you see it?"

The tree branches were illuminated by the barn's security lights. No long-necked animals of any kind were to be seen. "You're pulling my leg," Neal accused. "I don't see a giraffe."

Sara frowned at him. "I know it sounds ridiculous but how can you not see it? It's right there in plain view. Maybe there's a nearby wildlife park and the giraffe escaped. It could be lost. We need to help it."

Neal stared at her, baffled. She sounded completely sincere. She'd only had one glass of wine at dinner—

Sara grabbed his arm, staring in terror straight ahead. "Run!" Her voice was a panicked whisper.

Neal looked around in bewilderment. "Now what?"

Sara flung her hands in front of her face and let out a silent scream.

#

"Feeling better?" Neal asked, handing Sara a glass of water.

"A little," she said, taking a sip. "Thank you for not telling Peter and El." Neal had been beyond kind. According to him, she'd been unconscious for only a minute after fainting. He'd helped her back to their room then gone back outside to tell the Burkes they were calling it a night. To the best of her recollection, she'd never hallucinated anything in her life. How could she have believed she saw a giraffe? And then to have it turn into a horned monster that latched onto her with its massive jaws, well that was too incredible to relate to anyone.

Neal agreed to keep her secret. He was probably concerned that after their talk of vampires her over-active imagination had played a trick on her, and, honestly, what else could it be?

"I feel like such a fool," she said. After a hot shower, she was relaxing in bed. The room was cool and comfortable. A ceiling fan circled lazily overhead. Not a rampaging monster in sight. "Have I thanked you for not teasing me about it?"

"Many times over." Neal crossed his legs and sat opposite her on the king-sized bed. "Trust me, I know all too well how the mind can play tricks on you."

"Have you ever seen a giraffe morph into T-Rex's cousin?"

He chuckled. "No, but I've had my share of octopus frights. Did I tell you about the time I was sure I spotted one in a Louisiana swamp? Sam was along. He told me it was a nutria." He winced. "Not my finest moment."

Neal always knew how to make her feel better. "We're two of a kind," she said. "You suspected your subconscious was messing with you because of Rolf Mansfeld." The cybercriminal was infamous for his fascination with the works of horror-writer H.P. Lovecraft. In response, Diana Berrigan was writing fanfics for the Cthulhu Mythos. Tentacle-waving creatures were a frequent discussion topic at the workplace. Diana even wore an octopus hat when she wrote.

"When I confessed the issues I had, you made a logical case for why it was happening," he reminded her. "You told me that my sensitivity to cephalopods was an understandable consequence of the pressure I was under. Something similar could be happening with you."

"You think Emily is playing a role?" she asked.

He drew her into his lap. "Your sister loved giraffes. Your subconscious may have equated her murder with an adorable giraffe turning into a monster."

She nestled her head against the warm reassurance of his chest. "I suppose. I hate to think what a psychiatrist would make out of my giraffe from hell." She leaned back to look up at him. "Have you ever discussed your octopus sensitivity with your therapist?" Jacob Nussbaum was a neuropsychologist at Columbia University. He'd successfully treated Neal when he'd been subjected to virtual-reality manipulation.

"No, I thought about it, but then the nightmares stopped." He smiled at her. "Why? Would you like to have a joint consultation?"

"If I start having nightmares about a psycho giraffe, I'll take you up on the offer," she declared. Never had she experienced such mind-numbing terror, and she hoped she never had to relive the ordeal.

#

"I bet there will be more than a few nightmares tonight," Chloe said. "Why the reunion committee chose _Godzilla vs. Mothra_ for our movie night escapes me."

"They couldn't have picked a better movie," Dean countered. "When you first mentioned your high school reunion, I gotta admit the prospect didn't rate high on my list of thrills." He was being charitable. High school reunions sounded like the most boring thing imaginable, but Chloe had caught him in a weak moment—after a romp in the sack, naturally—and it turned out to be better than he'd expected.

She slipped an arm around his waist. "But then when I mentioned it would be a cross-country road trip for just the two of us, you started to perk up."

"Can't argue with that," he agreed, pulling her in for a kiss. The motel where they were staying was close to the North Platte River and they'd decided to take a stroll in a riverside park before going to their room.

The previous night they'd gone to a dance in the high school gym. Today they'd had a frisbee tournament and picnic with the best pie he'd ever had. Where had toffee almond pie been all his life? It was like pecan pie, but better.

They'd had dinner with Chloe's parents. Dean had offered to take them out—it was Father's Day, after all—but they insisted on cooking. Chloe's folks lived in a white frame house near downtown Gering. Her father worked in a hardware store. Her mom was a librarian at the local high school.

Chloe must have told them what he liked to eat as they started the meal with cheeseburger pizza then moved on to grilled burgers. He was suspicious of the cabbage burgers they insisted he sample, but the sand cherry pie more than made up for it.

Dean told her parents he was a private investigator which was true as far as it went. He could honestly claim to work as a consultant for the FBI. At one point her dad pulled him aside to have The Talk, but Chloe barged in to rescue him before her dad warmed up his zingers. Chloe had lived independently for several years with only the occasional trip back home. Her parents probably rightfully assumed the days were long past that they could control her actions.

But for Dean, it was unsettling. Chloe was a damned fine writer. She had great parents, a home to go back to. If she hadn't met him, she might never have known about her ability in witchcraft. She would have been a helluva lot safer. She claimed she loved how her life had been transformed, but was it the best thing for her?

It was something he chewed on in the back of his mind that evening. The reunion committee had arranged for a movie night at a restored theater dating back to the '40s in the adjacent town of Scottsbluff. Tomorrow they'd head back east.

"When was the last time you took a vacation and didn't encounter a single monster?" Chloe asked, taking a seat on a bench facing the river.

"You mean Brutus doesn't count?" he joked, sitting down next to her.

"Hardly! Marlene was addicted to horror stories in high school." Chloe chuckled. "Although I didn't know she had such a vivid imagination. Turning our beloved mascot Brutus the Bulldog into a raging minotaur? I wouldn't have thought she knew what a minotaur was."

"That was my fault," Dean admitted. "When I heard the shrieks, I ran into the hallway. She was babbling about a rampaging bull on two legs, and it sounded like a minotaur." He felt sorry for the girl. He'd looked around but didn't find anything. The guy in the Brutus costume had vanished. Probably a practical jokester.

"Have you ever encountered a minotaur?" Chloe asked.

"Nope, but it's bound to happen." Dean shrugged."I expect to eventually run into just about every monster known to man."

"This time you can relax. I felt sorry for Marlene. I wish the others hadn't teased her so much. She was practically in tears from the humiliation." Chloe squeezed his hand. "Thank you for being so nice to her. I bet the horns she imagined were shadows. There were only a few lights on in the basement."

Dean didn't comment. Marlene's response was the standard one used by people who didn't want to believe what they'd witnessed. And who knows? Maybe Marlene had only imagined it. But he was glad he'd driven the Impala with the well-equipped arsenal in the trunk. Chloe had suggested they take her Mustang instead, and he'd been tempted. But he knew with all the plant leaves and seeds she intended to collect on the way, there'd be no space for his gear.

"Tomorrow we should stop at Carhenge," Chloe said. "It's a little out of our way but worth the detour. You'll love it. The monument is built to resemble Stonehenge but is made out of cars."

"Um-hmm, Dean said absently. What was that behind a tree? "I think I spotted a jackrabbit."

Chloe chuckled. "Another one? How many does this make?"

"Hey, don't knock them. That's the best part of wandering the prairies." Whenever Chloe searched for wildflowers, he'd kept track of jackrabbits. At last count, he'd spotted thirty-two. He stood up. "I want to get a closer look."

"I'll come with you. You know, your fascination with rabbits proves we were meant to be together. I'm going to transform those rabbits into plot bunnies for my next novel."

Dean snorted. He hadn't given Chloe much time to write lately although he'd done his best to provide inspiration for the steamy scenes. Her current project, _Monkshood by Moonlight_ , was a sensitive subject, having gone through so many rewrites she'd lost track.

As Dean snuck closer to the rabbit, he did a double-take. "Have you ever seen a rabbit with a rack like that?" he whispered.

"What kind of rack?" she whispered back. "I haven't spotted it yet."

"Like deer antlers—Son of a bitch! Its eyes are glowing! Run!"

#

Chloe made a face, but she ran with him. After Dean's frenzied sprint back to the car, they'd sped off to the motel room where he bolted the door. The description of what he claimed he saw matched that of a jackalope. Chloe was already familiar with the mythical creature. It was a standard joke in Gering. Taxidermists prepared mounts of rabbit heads adorned with deer antlers to sell to tourists. The experience wasn't that different from what Marlene claimed happened to her, except for one thing. Dean trusted his instincts. He insisted that the jackalope was real and something was amiss in Gering, Nebraska.

Chloe didn't know what to think, but she'd never seen Dean so terrified. Instead of grabbing a shotgun from the trunk, he'd wanted to hide in the motel room. That kind of behavior made her scared as well.

Dean's experience cast Marlene's misadventure in a different light. Was someone playing demonic tricks on them? If so, they were harmless. No one had been injured. Chloe briefly considered if Crowley could be involved. The demon was sarcastic and had a biting sense of humor. But Dean scoffed at the notion, claiming that no demon was able to transform creatures into monsters or alter perceptions.

She could have argued the point. Orchids had strange abilities, and some flowers caused hallucinogenic symptoms. But if she mentioned anything, she'd simply be giving Dean another reason to tell her to burn all the plants in the orchid growroom.

Then Mozzie called.

* * *

_Notes: Thanks for reading! Please join me next week for Chapter 2: Strange Creatures. Dawn of the Jackalopes has 6 chapters which I'll post weekly on Wednesday._

_In the pre-canon Caffrey Conversation AU created by Penna Nomen, FBI Special Agent Peter Burke recruited con artist and expert forger Neal Caffrey in 2003 when he was 24. In exchange for a confession, he was given immunity for past crimes and started working for the FBI as a consultant at the White Collar task force in New York City. Sam and Dean Winchester are demon-hunting brothers. Sam is roughly the same age as Neal. Dean is four years older than Sam. Peter is fifteen years older than Neal. For those familiar with the Supernatural timeline, the action is set early in the second season of Supernatural. The Crossed Lines page on our blog has more background information about the stories._

_Story Visuals and Music: The[Dawn of the Jackalopes board](https://www.pinterest.com/silbrith/dawn-of-the-jackalopes/) on the Caffrey Conversation Pinterest website: [pinterest.com/caffreycon](http://www.pinterest.com/caffreycon)_  
_Blog: Penna Nomen & Silbrith Conversation: [pennasilbrithconversation.blogspot.com](http://www.pennasilbrithconversation.blogspot.com)_  
_Twitter:[@silbrith](https://twitter.com/silbrith)_


	2. Strange Creatures

**Larkspur Guest Ranch. Monday, June 19, 2006.**

Peter breathed in the crisp High Plains air. No honking horns or rumbling trucks to disturb the peace of the early morning. If he listened carefully, he could hear the faint snorts of horses in the corral.

He turned to look at El, who smiled at him as she blew on her steaming mug of coffee. They were taking breakfast on the outside patio. Neal and Sara hadn't shown up yet.

"We must do something special for Mozzie when we get back to New York," she said. "After all, he was the one who told Neal about the guest ranch."

"We can have a brunch or barbecue. Maybe both." Peter agreed, feeling expansive. "We'll invite him, Janet, and Neal. I wish we could include Sara, but she doesn't know when her next trip to New York will be. I thought last year was the best Father's Day ever, but yesterday was even better. I don't know how it can be topped."

She smiled slyly. "I do."

"Baby Burke?" Peter grew excited at the thought. It hadn't escaped his notice that El had picked up a flyer describing kids' activities at the ranch. Perhaps Baby Burke had been conceived last night. After a day of horseback riding and stargazing, how auspicious would that be?

He and El had taken full advantage of Neal and Sara calling it an early night. And they still had several days left to their vacation. Was there something magical to that High Plains air? Today he might find a fossil . . . Peter glanced at his watch. "I should have reminded Neal that we're making an early start. I'd hoped to teach him how to saddle a horse."

El clasped his hand. "This is their vacation too. If they want to sleep in, we should let them. No matter what, I'll be your sidekick. We can stay out as long as you want. The guides said we could take a picnic lunch with us."

"You won't mind?"

She chuckled. "After all the receptions and shopping expeditions I've taken you on, I'll happily clamber over a rocky hillside with you."

She glanced over his shoulder and stood up to wave. "Here they are, and they bring friends!"

Peter groaned. "Don't tell me. Dean and Sam are here."

"Okay, I won't."

"You're getting just like Neal," he said, giving an exaggerated roll to his eyes. "Are Neal's word games rubbing off on you?"

She laughed. "Not this time. Mozzie and Travis are here."

"I hope you don't mind us crashing your breakfast," Travis said when he arrived at their table, looking sheepish. "Neal insisted you wouldn't mind."

"Of course not. We're delighted to have you join us," El quickly said, beckoning to the waitress.

"Mozzie called me a couple of hours ago," Neal added. "I invited them to have breakfast with us."

"Neal and Sara also allowed us to make use of their magnificent shower," Travis said. "We're forever in their debt. Now I don't have to worry about sitting downwind from you."

Mozzie looked like he was about to pop, and Peter was still basking in a generous glow so he lobbed him a softball. "I'm surprised you could take time out from your SETI research to visit us."

"You shouldn't be since you're now part of it!" Mozzie paused at the arrival of the waitress who passed menus around to the new arrivals and filled their mugs with coffee.

While Mozzie quizzed the waitress on which selections were lactose-free, Peter looked to Travis for reassurance. His helpless shrug didn't provide much comfort.

"Try the apricot honey strudel," El urged Mozzie "It's from a local Greek bakery and reminds me of baklava, but it's not as heavy."

"In that case, pack a couple of extra slices to go," Mozzie told the waitress, a fresh-faced girl who looked barely out of high school. "We'd stopped at a bakery for supplies two days ago. I wonder if it's the same one. Is your purveyor The Parthenon?"

"Yes, sir," she replied. "It's one of Gering's oldest bakeries."

"We can attest to their cookies also being superb," Mozzie said and turned to El. "The store has a clever logo. The Greek temple is perched on top of the Scotts Bluff Monument."

"Did you try their honey almond crescents?" Sara asked. "We had those at lunch yesterday."

Peter sighed. Enough with the pastries. He was far more interested in how they'd become part of a quest for extraterrestrial life. He knew better than to count on Mozzie for a concise report. As soon as the waitress left, he requested the details from his tech expert.

The story Travis told him was too bizarre to be believed, and Travis was plainly bothered by it as well. Tribbles and E.T. in the same Nebraska cornfield?

"I was sure we were suffering from sunstroke," Travis admitted, "but that doesn't jibe with how terrified I felt at the time. There was a moment of utter raw fear such as I've never experienced. I must have blacked out for close to five minutes."

"I experienced the same emotions," Mozzie said, appearing irrationally proud of it.

"Once you revived, did you find any physical evidence?" Sara asked, looking troubled. Neal was equally serious, and that gave Peter pause. Normally Neal would have been zinging the two men with quips.

Travis gave a rueful smile. "Like tribble drool? Sadly there was nothing."

"I'm confident extraterrestrial forces are at work," Mozzie declared with the fervor of the true believer. "What we experienced were experiments in mind control. Aliens selected us as test subjects to probe Earthlings' vulnerabilities."

Travis winced but didn't comment. Peter sympathized with him. The men would spend an additional four days together before arriving in Los Angeles. Would Travis need to be detoxified afterward?

"Mozzie called Dean to find out if he'd heard of any reports." Travis hesitated, glancing at Peter. "Had you heard he and Chloe are in Gering?"

"El told us," Peter confirmed.

"Good. I was reluctant to involve him, but Dean confirmed that Mozzie was right."

"About aliens?" El interjected, her eyes widening.

"Not necessarily, but that something screwy is going on," Travis clarified. "Dean had a similar experience with a jackalope and knew about one other similar incident."

Peter was familiar with jackalopes. The bar at the guest ranch was decorated with a poster of the critters and had named a cocktail after them.

"You can add me to the club," Sara said, her eyes darting to Neal. "I thought I saw a giraffe yesterday evening. It turned into a demonic horned monster right in front of my eyes."

"I was with her at the time," Neal confirmed. "I didn't see anything, but Sara was terrified."

"Why didn't you say something earlier?" El asked.

Sara made a face. "I was too embarrassed. I asked Neal not to mention it."

"Does Dean have any theories on who or what is causing these . . . umm . . . I guess the best word is hallucinations?" Neal asked.

"He's not wild about Mozzie's theory," Travis said, "but he doesn't know of any supernatural creature who could cause it."

Mozzie shrugged complacently. "In the words of the immortal Sherlock Holmes, 'Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth.' Ladies and gentlemen, we are at one of those moments."

#

When the men headed for the omelet bar, El stayed behind to talk with Sara. Although Sara hadn't mentioned anything about Emily to the others, El knew that she and Neal must have been concerned about a connection. Sara's sister had loved giraffes. Emily had worn a silver pendant of a giraffe around her neck, and the necklace had helped identify her remains. Was it merely a coincidence or a cruel trick that Sara had seen the same animal? 

Sara gave a rueful smile. "What do you think? Is Mozzie right? Are space aliens testing us?"

El chuckled. "It's the only theory on the table for the moment, but I wouldn't bet on it."

Sara absently poked a strand of hair behind her ear. She'd pulled back her hair into a ponytail for the day's outing. "If only one of us had experienced the phenomenon, I'd be like Travis and blame it on heat stroke or emotional stress." She shrugged. "That's what I did last night. I suppose on one level it's a relief to hear my giraffe wasn't the only weird creature seen in Nebraska yesterday. I assume you and Peter didn't see anything unusual?"

El shook her head. "And I gather Neal didn't either?"

"No, nor did Chloe according to Dean."

El considered for a moment. "If this were an Arkham Files story, my character, a highly respected neurologist, would analyze the symptoms in a scientific manner. We should do the same."

"I like that idea. Arkham Sara is an investigative journalist. Since Diana based the characters on us, we should be able to call on their brilliant minds for a consultation. Ignoring for the moment the source of the hallucinations, what do the incidents have in common?"

"They all start with friendly animals that quickly turn into nightmarish versions," El said, wishing she could slip into one of Arkham El's lab coats. She did the next best thing by writing a note on the paper placemat.

"The second point of commonality is that the animals all have a personal significance for us. We associate them with happy memories." Sara frowned. "How could we all have a similar psychosis?"

"It has to be something specific to this region," El said. "All the cases occurred near Scotts Bluff. Perhaps something in the air or the water." She glanced at her water glass. Should she start drinking bottled water? "Something in our food could also cause it."

Sara raised her eyebrows. "A weird form of food poisoning? I suppose a hallucinogenic chemical could have gotten mixed into the local supply of flour. Mozzie said Dean and Chloe were going to ask around town." Sara rolled her eyes. "I don't envy having to ask people if they've seen anything strange recently."

El chuckled. "Dean has to be used to it by now."

"Arkham Sara would insist we view it from Mozzie's angle as well."

"Then let's assume he's right. An alien intelligence is controlling what we see. How are they doing it? Did they pick us at random?"

Sara thought for a moment. "Or was there something about us that makes ourselves especially receptive? I doubt we'll be able to answer that until we know more about our adversary. When Astrena established a link to Neal, she could insert herself into his dreams and make him physically ill. Astrena is a goddess who lives somewhere in the stars. I suppose that makes her an alien of sorts."

"Astrena needed to drink someone's blood to form a psychic connection," El said, an idea starting to form. "Our mystery foe could have done something similar. You don't happen to have any bite marks?" She heard a groan behind her.

Peter placed a plate heaped with sausage, a western omelet, and Canadian bacon on the table. "You're not suggesting vampires are responsible, I hope?"

"No, but mosquitoes or spiders could be," she said.

Once the men were all sitting down, she and Sara described their analysis.

"Fascinating speculation," Travis said. "Insects infecting humans with an unknown pathogen. It sounds like something Michael Crichton might write about, but it's difficult to accept it could actually happen."

Mozzie scowled. "You must open your mind to the possibility. Isn't that what SETI is all about?"

"Not really." 

"Let's take it one step further," Mozzie said, interrupting Travis's protest. "What if bees carried the pathogen? They could transmit it into honey." He swallowed hard. "Travis and I ate honey-laced cookies. This delicious strudel is full of it." He waved to the waitress. "I must order another slice for chemical analysis."

"Aliens are controlling us through honey?" Neal repeated skeptically, his smile widening into a grin. "This is beginning to sound like your tunnel slime theory."

"I'm glad you brought that up," Mozzie said enthusiastically, blowing away the sarcasm. "A careful analysis of the honey used in the pastries may reveal an alien fractal configuration."

"I'll leave the discussion of fractals to others, but honey shouldn't be discounted as a possible cause," Sara said in unexpected support. "We've all been eating pastries containing honey."

Peter took a slow measured breath as if he was counting to ten, and he probably was. "Nothing, I repeat nothing, is going to stop me from fossil collecting. I'm sure Dean can manage fine with Mozzie and Travis's able help."

"We're not staying," Mozzie protested. "Another crop circle appeared overnight in eastern Wyoming. We're heading there directly after breakfast. Dean put us in charge of all extraterrestrial sightings."

El hid her smile at the knowing look Neal exchanged with Sara. Mozzie's face was flushed with enthusiasm, and Travis was going along with the flow. Dean probably thought he was keeping them out of harm's way by having them continue with their original plans. Aidan's wedding would be next Saturday. With all the stops they'd undoubtedly make to check out sightings, they'd need those days. 

#

Dean surveyed himself in the mirror. "Which one d'ya prefer— the black shirt or the white one?"

Chloe smiled at his reflection. "How often do you shop at a western store? Let's get them both." They'd spent the morning inquiring about strange encounters. No one was willing to admit they'd seen anything except as a joke. When Dean spotted a ranch supply store on their way back to the motel, he insisted on making a stop. He'd first selected boots and a Stetson hat. Those two western shirts were keepers as well. 

Chloe already had boots, but Dean insisted she buy a Stetson too. He was picking up the motel charge, so she'd pay the shopping tab. Her Ravensword was grinning from ear to ear. Up to this trip, she hadn't realized he was a cowboy at heart.

"Are you folks shopping for Oregon Trail Days?" the salesclerk asked as she rang up the sale.

"What's that?" Dean asked.

"It's a four-day festival in mid-July," Chloe explained. "The parade through town is the main event."

"There's a poster about it on the wall," the clerk said. "This year longhorn cattle will be included in the parade. Participants dress up in prairie clothes or cowboy outfits."

Dean strode over to the poster and stared at it with a curious look on his face. He turned to Chloe. "I think Sam and I may have attended it too. I remember seeing a parade with covered wagons when I was a kid. I'd forgotten all about it."

"How old were you?" Chloe asked, memories from long ago starting to resurface. She and a group of neighborhood kids had acted like zombies when she was around eleven years old. Two boys who were passing through town with their dad joined them. Could they have been Dean and Sam?

He shrugged. "Maybe twelve. Dad spent a lot of time cruising the West back then."

"Hey, I just remembered something," called out the salesclerk. "I did hear of a strange creature."

They'd asked her earlier, but she'd come up blank. Chloe put her own questions on hold while Dean questioned her.

"It was about three weeks ago," the clerk said. "Marlene Evans, the science teacher at the high school, belonged to my quilting club. We were working on a quilt at her house when she heard her cat crying at the back door. She went into the kitchen to let him in. When she didn't return, Lisa—she was another member of our group—went to check on her. She found Marlene flat on the floor, muttering something about a saber-toothed tiger. Poor dear could hardly breathe. We thought she'd had a fit. We called 911 and they rushed her to the hospital. She died a day later. The doctors said she'd had a heart attack."

"How old was she?" Dean asked.

"Only thirty-five." The clerk shook her head sadly. "Her husband Harlan was devastated. He was away coaching a Little League team when it happened. We figured the tiger reference had something to do with one of her classes. Marlene liked to take the kids to see the fossils at Agate Hills. She was one of the most level-headed persons I'd ever known. Definitely not the type to make up a story about saber-toothed tigers, but a real one would certainly qualify as a strange creature. We'd make the national news!"

Dean got the address before they left the store. "This puts a new spin on the sightings," he told Chloe once they were outside. "It's possible she was literally frightened to death. I have to admit I've never experienced the kind of terror I felt when I saw the jackalope."

"Could somebody really be so scared that they'd suffer a heart attack?" Chloe asked.

"We've known it to happen. I better give Sam a call."

#

Sam was in the backyard with Maia, planting seedlings in the newly expanded herb garden when his phone rang. So typical. He and Maia had placed a bet over how long Dean and Chloe could be on the road before a monster showed up. Maia had won. Okay, maybe Sam had been overly optimistic but couldn't one of them go a week without any job dropping in their laps?

"Trouble?" Maia asked after he ended the call, tightening the kerchief holding back her hair.

"Yeah, and in Chloe's hometown. She and Dean are both fine. It's hard to know how serious the threat is. Bobby needs to be brought in. I'll explain everything once we're inside."

Bobby was in the kitchen, replacing a leaky faucet. From what Dean described, the phenomenon was unlike anything they'd encountered. If Bobby hadn't heard of something similar, they wouldn't be able to provide much help.

Maia cast a wistful eye over the flat of herbs waiting to be planted. "I have the feeling this may take a while. We better move the plants into the shade."

Maia's wolfhound Tatyana eyed them hopefully as they relocated the herbs. She'd grown restless watching them on their hands and knees, but Sam liked the work. He was giving the plants a fresh start, and the only things he was ganking were weeds. Dean's call was a jolt back to reality.

They found Bobby on his back under the sink. "It's about time you two showed up. I could use your help. I've already banged my head enough on the cabinet. Will someone hand me that wrench on the counter?"

"Sorry," Maia said contritely. "My offer to call the plumber still stands."

"And let him mess with these pipes? Nothing doing." He reached out with one arm to grab the wrench Sam supplied. "You hear from Dean?"

Sam smiled at Maia. Bobby's radar worked as well as ever. "What clued you in?"

"I figured it wasn't my charming personality. Or your hankering to be plumber apprentices," he added pointedly. "What's up?"

"That's what I hope you can tell us." Sam proceeded to relate Dean's description of the events. "And get this, the victim first thinks they're seeing an animal or creature that they find particularly appealing. Only later do the visions, hallucinations, or whatever they are turn into fright shows. Have you ever heard of anyone being able to cause that?"

"Can't say that I have. Our monsters don't usually bother disguising themselves."

Maia worried her lower lip. "If Dean and Chloe have already been able to trace three deaths possibly attributed to the phenomenon, there are likely others."

Bobby slid out from under the sink. "It could be a trickster." He wiped his forehead with a rag. "I've never encountered one personally, but there are rumors they exist."

"What do you know about them?" Sam asked.

"Not much more than a thimbleful. The mythologies of several ancient people include gods or demigods who are tricksters, but that don't make them real."

Maia was gazing absently out the window, her eyes narrowing. "I wonder . . ."

"Do you know of one?" Sam asked, surprised.

"No, but I remember something Crowley said to Astrena. I was studying in the library and overheard them talking about how a trickster could be involved. Back then, I believed Crowley was helping my sister with the foundation's finances. I thought it had something to do with a dip in the stock market since that was what they'd been discussing earlier. But if there really are tricksters, perhaps Crowley knows something about them."

Bobby exhaled noisily, giving a low rumble in his throat reminiscent of a walrus with heartburn. "Do we have to get him involved?"

"I don't like it either," Sam said. "But innocents have died. Dean, Sara, Mozzie, and Travis have all been victimized. Who's next? Is whoever behind it just warming up?"

"Cozying up to a crossroads demon ain't my idea of a solution, but I won't stand in your way," Bobby said, wiping his hands on a towel.

"Thanks, Bobby," Sam said. "Besides, you knew this day would come. That's why you took out an insurance policy."

He snorted. "I look forward to his reaction. Who gets the thrill of calling him?"

"I will," Maia offered unexpectedly. She reddened at Bobby's surprised look. "Tatyana likes him. And he's always treated me well."

"Maia's right," Sam agreed reluctantly. "Crowley seems to have a soft spot for her. If we're inviting a demon to work with us, we'd be fools not to take advantage of it."

#

"You rang. I appeared." Crowley surveyed the group in the kitchen, a smirk on his face. "Was your quaint pastoral life becoming a bore? I'm here to liven it up."

Sam rolled his eyes at Maia. She was grateful Dean wasn't here. He would have voiced his objections much more directly. She already knew she'd have her hands full with Bobby.

Maia recognized she was biased. She'd grown to know Crowley when she didn't realize he was a demon. Sam had lectured her about how crossroads demons granted mortals favors in exchange for shortened lifespans, but it was still hard to believe that the man who romped with Tatyana and joined her for afternoon tea could hurt her.

"Thank you for coming," she said when no one else did. "I hope this wasn't an inconvenient time." Now Bobby was rolling his eyes too, but shouldn't she be courteous? After all, they wanted his help. Tatyana had bounded over to Crowley for a head scratch. "I have a pot of Earl Gray tea made. Would you like a cup?"

"That's very kind of you, little mouse," Crowley said, smiling at her. "Add a shot of Craig to go with it." He took a seat at the rustic wood table in the center of the kitchen. It was a new piece they'd acquired and had become the focal point for conversations. Maia hoped to eventually extend the casual atmosphere of the kitchen to the rest of the house.

"By all means get comfortable," Bobby said, his scowl deepening.

"Don't mind if I do," Crowley said expansively, ignoring the sarcasm. "Oh, and don't forget the dog biscuits for Tatyana."

Maia placed the treat container on the table. "I'd picked up a pie from Wisteria's inn when I heard you were coming." Maia had first met Wisteria through the local Wicca coven. Her baker made the best pies in town. After discovering that Dean and Bobby were as fond of them as Crowley, Maia had been engaged in pie diplomacy to establish détente between the three.

Crowley raised a brow. "What kind?"

Maia smiled. She knew his favorite. "Raisin."

Crowley nodded with satisfaction. "Well played. One large slice of pie, tea, Scotch, pooch. You've bribed me sufficiently. Why do you need my help?"

Sam took a slow breath and sat down next to him. "A trickster appears to be causing problems in a small town in Nebraska."

"So? Tricksters are always causing problems somewhere. Why should this concern you?'

"Because Dean's there with Chloe," Maia said, handing him a plate and fork. "Neal, his girlfriend, and the Burkes are also in town." Maia had an odd feeling of closeness to Neal and his friends. She wondered sometimes if it was an aftereffect of having broken the spell linking Neal to Astrena. Now she felt like they were all part of one extended family. She'd discussed it with Sam. He thought it might be connected to her Irish heritage and a desire to be a member of a clan. Perhaps he was right. That could be why she had the same feeling about Crowley, but she knew better than to mention that to anyone.

"And they didn't take you along?" The corners of Crowley's mouth drooped. "No wonder you're lonely. You should have called me earlier."

"Balls," Bobby muttered and reached for the Scotch, helping himself to a generous glass. "Can't we skip to the chase?"

"You're just cranky because you haven't had pie yet," Crowley said. "Trust me, one taste of raisin pie with Craig, and you'll be transported to pie-lovers' nirvana."

Sam sighed. "We only know about tricksters from legends. Do they really exist?"

"Yes, Moose, they do. There are at least two who are currently active. Your pals may have landed into double trouble. Good thing I'm here to save the day. I'm quite willing to share my knowledge,"—he paused to smooth his dark maroon tie—"but first we should discuss my fee." He raised an eyebrow at Bobby. "After all, you said you wanted to get to business."

Bobby grunted with a look at Maia as if to say he told her so. "All right, here's my offer. I know about your cushy little enterprise in New Orleans. I care diddly about your jazz club, and how you make your money ain't a big item for me, but not all hunters are as tolerant as I am. You help us out, and we keep mum about New Orleans." Bobby crossed his arms and arched an eyebrow at Crowley. "From where I'm sitting, that's a damn sight better than what you deserve. Do we have a deal?"

Crowley exhaled slowly, his eyes flicking to Maia and Sam. "With a few small addenda . . . for now. Number One, you don't mention our arrangement to anybody. Number Two, you never breathe a word about New Orleans to Cheekbones and the feds."

Sam nodded. "We can live with that, but you have to promise that any creatures under your control avoid going on a killing rampage."

Crowley grimaced. "Picky, picky. I insist on visiting privileges." He scratched behind Tatyana's ears. "I know Maia will want to be an excellent hostess, providing Scotch, pie, and other amenities."

Bobby groaned. "I didn't think I'd regret this so soon."

"And you're not," Maia said, her voice more forceful than she intended. "You've been bemoaning the lack of a decent chess partner. Now, you'll have one. If we can make this work, we'll all be stronger for it."

Sam eyed her thoughtfully. He was probably thinking she was worried about Astrena's other sisters showing up. And that was a concern. But deep inside, that feeling of kinship to Crowley was stronger than ever. He'd told her he was from Scotland. Maybe his ancestors immigrated there from Ireland. Or perhaps her druid ancestress Airmid was whispering in her ear that he was a clansman. Maia was just glad no one challenged her.

Sam cleared his throat. "So, Crowley, what do you know about tricksters?"

* * *

_Notes: The idea that Chloe met the Winchesters when they were children came from the fertile imagination of my writing partner, Penna Nomen. This past weekend, we celebrated seven years of collaboration. That childhood remembrance is just one example of why Penna is the best plot bunny wrangler ever!_

_Penna's tale of Chloe's encounter with the Winchesters will appear as the final chapter to this story. But you don't have to wait to read new works from her. She wrote two stories for this year's Chocolate Box Exchange. One is for the Psych fandom. The other is a crossover of Doctor Who and Pride and Prejudice. Both stories are delectable treats to be savored! You'll find the links in[her profile](https://archiveofourown.org/users/penna_nomen/pseuds/penna_nomen). _


	3. A Taste for Honey

**Larkspur Guest Ranch. June 19, 2006. Monday morning.**

When Dean called Neal with descriptions of several other probable cases, the bizarre events could no longer be written off as freakish accidents. Additional confirmation was provided when Peter was victimized during the fossil-hunting expedition. It was beginning to sound like an epidemic of monster sightings.

Neal invited Dean and Chloe to join them at the ranch for a reappraisal over dinner. He figured the casual chuck-wagon cookout would appeal to Dean but he didn't expect him to come dressed for the occasion. Dean was sporting a black western shirt, boots, cowboy hat, and a grin as wide as the brim of the hat. Chloe also wore western clothes.

Dinner was served on the outside patio. Lighting was kept low in consideration of any stargazers among the guests. The rugged bluffs making up the monument towered above their prairie location.

"Do Dean's findings make you feel better?" Neal asked Peter even though he knew that was likely not the case. What was supposed to be a carefree vacation had taken a nosedive downhill.

Peter grimaced. "Not really. Knowing that I'm simply one victim among many is not reassuring in the slightest."

El patted Peter's arm. "You could look at it from another perspective. How many people have been attacked by a T-Rex and lived to tell the tale?"

Over ribeye steaks, Peter related his tale of woe to Dean and Chloe. The field trip had started without a hitch. The ranch guide took them to a location in the hills where whatever was found could be kept. Neal and Sara had paired off to dig in the loose ash soil of ancient volcanoes. They didn't find anything, and after a while, Neal got out his sketchpad to draw the others. Peter and El had more luck, finding a large tooth. Peter thought it might belong to a saber-toothed cat although their guide believed it was more likely from an ancient hyena.

But just at the moment of Peter the Paleontologist's greatest triumph, disaster struck. He'd spotted an unusual rock—Peter later insisted it looked like the skull of a _Velociraptor_ —but his exclamation of delight turned into a blood-curdling scream. Neal and Sara rushed over to find El trying to revive him. He was unconscious for close to a minute.

Luckily the rest of the amateur fossil collectors were far enough away that his scream hadn't sounded too unnerving. Neal explained that Peter had turned over a rock to find a scorpion and screamed because he was allergic to its sting. That was far preferable to explaining he saw a fossil transform into a marauding tyrannosaur.

Once Peter was sufficiently recovered, they headed back to the guest ranch for Peter to rest and the others to regroup. Luckily they hadn't heard that some of the victims had literally been scared to death. Dean and Chloe had unearthed three mortalities that were linked to unusual sightings.

"Don't feel bad," Dean consoled Peter. "You have lots of company. I talked with the widow of one dude whose pet goldfish turned into a prehistoric sea monster."

"Probably an ichthyosaur," Peter clarified absently.

"Whatever." Dean took a healthy glug of beer. "The point is we were damned lucky we didn't wind up on slabs in a mortuary. I called Sam to see if he could find any information about who we might be dealing with."

"Does he have a candidate?" Neal asked.

When Dean hesitated, Chloe spoke up. "Not one but two." She flicked a glance at Dean. "And in the interest of full disclosure, you should know who the source is."

Dean scowled, shifting his weight in the chair. "Bobby suspects a trickster is messing with our heads. Since he's only familiar with accounts from ancient mythologies, as a last resort he called on Crowley for help."

Sara's eyes opened wide. "Neal told me that Crowley's a crossroads demon. Won't asking for his help cause problems down the road?"

"Apparently not," Chloe said. "Bobby, Sam, and Maia were able to broker an understanding. Maia honestly believes Crowley likes working with us." At Peter's only half-suppressed groan, she flushed. "And I think she's right. You have to admit, he was very helpful in banishing Abaddon."

What was Chloe leaving out? The bargains exacted by crossroads demons were a little like thieves exchanging favors, but the demon's fee usually included a shortening of one's life. Bobby never would have agreed to such a price. Neal would love to know what the bargaining chip was.

"I'm not happy with our new pal either," Dean said, "but as long as he plays nice, we'll put up with him. Crowley knows of two tricksters who are capable of the kind of issues we've experienced. One is Loki, an ancient Norse god. He usually operates in Scandinavia and England. Crowley ran into him in Scotland about ten years ago. Hasn't heard anything about him since."

"Who's the other?" El asked uneasily.

"A cousin to Astrena," Chloe told her. "Dolos is his name. Maia's heard of him. Astrena had mentioned Dolos to Crowley when she was worried that Thanatos was seeking revenge on her."

Neal sat back in his chair, stunned. Crowley was demonstrating his worth in spades. Maia had told them about Thanatos being Astrena's brother. According to ancient texts, he was the ruler of Oblivion, a netherworld of vampires, witches, and vengeful spirits. The myths indicated Astrena and Thanatos hated each other, but Crowley was privy to Astrena's thoughts on the subject.

"We believed we banished Astrena to the stars," Sara said. "Where does Dolos live? Do we know anything about him?"

"Crowley's never met him," Dean said. "He only knows what he gleaned from Astrena." Dean snorted a chuckle. "I can just picture him groveling for information. Even Bobby admires Crowley's ferreting skills."

Neal shrugged. "He had an inside track. I'm glad to have Crowley on our side even if it's only temporary."

"Dolos is a shapeshifter, like all tricksters," Dean said. "Supposedly he and Thanatos are pals. Astrena worried that Dolos was active in New York City."

"Elizabeth, do you remember the Samhain festival we had to cancel because of rain?" Chloe asked.

Her face flashed recognition. "That freakish Halloween thunderstorm was caused by Dolos?"

"Astrena thought so, although she said Thanatos could be involved as well." Chloe took a breath. "The two of them give a new definition to the word pranksters."

"Dolos lives on Mt. Olympus," Dean said. "I checked and there is such a mountain in Greece, but no guarantee it's the one mentioned in the lore."

Peter rubbed his chin. "Is there any way we can tell which trickster is plaguing us?"

"According to Crowley, both gods are into snacks," Dean said. "Loki prefers hard candies. Dolos is a nut for nuts, especially almonds and pistachios. If one of them is cooperative enough to leave litter around, that's a tell, and then there's this." He paused to lock eyes with each one of them. "Is it merely a coincidence that we were hit? Out of the nine cases we'd heard about, five have happened to us. I'm no math whiz, but that sure doesn't sound like a random coincidence to me."

"You think it's Dolos," Sara said, her face grown tense.

"Yeah, I do. Even though he may dislike Astrena, she's still family. We already know Thanatos has opened a rift from Oblivion. He and Dolos could be taking advantage of Astrena's absence to run amok. Hell, I'm the last one to wish Astrena was around, but maybe she kept them in line."

Neal raised a brow. "Now they're bad boys gone wrong?"

Dean nodded gloomily. "That's my hunch, and they've zeroed in on us."

Peter exhaled slowly. "Was Crowley any help on how to find a trickster?"

"No, but Maia was able to provide a pointer on Dolos if the legends are true," Chloe said. "Supposedly Dolos gets his power from thunder, and to access it he has to be at a high elevation. That's why he dwells on Mt. Olympus. Crowley thinks a skyscraper or any other raised area would work. Astrena once commented that it would be just like Dolos to commandeer the top of the Empire State Building."

"Astrena established a link to Neal and Sam by drinking their blood," Sara said, clasping Neal's hand. "The thought still makes me cringe. For Dolos to affect people's minds, does he have to do something similar?"

"Crowley doesn't know," Chloe said. "Maia is reviewing mythology to see if anything is mentioned."

"Sara and I had wondered if insects could provide the means," El said. "For instance, if there was a chemical Dolos used to control perceptions, he could transmit it via infected insects."

"Like bees?" Chloe suggested. "Maia told me that in ancient Greece, bees were considered to be the messengers of the gods, and honey could also transmit the thoughts and wishes of immortals. Some believed honey was a source of power."

Neal stared at his honey-glazed baby back ribs. Suddenly they didn't seem very appealing.

Peter echoed his thoughts. "Forks down, folks. No more honey. It could be causing our hallucinations."

"It's too late," Dean said frowning. "We've all eaten products with honey. The damage is already done."

"Look!" Sara said, pointing to Scotts Bluff, her green eyes widening. "Do you see that shape over the bluff?"

Dean spun around. "Son of a bitch, what is that?"

"It looks like an aurora borealis of a gigantic pterodactyl," Peter murmured, looking awe-struck.

"I don't see anything," Chloe said, squinting her eyes at the night sky.

"Nor do I," Neal said. He gazed around at the other diners on the patio. None of them appeared aware of the phenomenon. He even asked a family at a neighboring table if they saw any strange cloud pattern in the sky and they didn't.

"You said Dolos needed a high place to gather his power," Peter said. "We could be looking at it."

"But why aren't Neal and I seeing it?" Chloe asked. "And there are lots of people eating baby back ribs. No one else seems to be aware of it."

"It could be like a food allergy," El suggested. "Some people are more sensitive than others."

"We'll need to investigate the bluff tomorrow," Dean said. He glanced at Peter. "Any chance we could do it on horseback?"

"I'm afraid not. It's too steep."

He made a face. "I figured it wouldn't work out. Just as well. I'll need to take my gear."

"Have you ever ridden a horse?" Peter asked.

"No, but there will be other opportunities."

"Peter, don't you need to check out the fossil site again?" El asked. She turned to Dean. "I've already been twice. You could take my place. They ride to the area on horseback, and I'd just as soon explore Gering."

"Me too," Sara volunteered. "Chloe, would you like to ride with Dean?"

"Honestly, I'd rather check out the honey producers," Chloe said. "There are at least a couple of local farms that market organic honey."

Dean raised a brow. "What are you going to ask them? Have they been selling their honey to a guy in a toga?"

She crinkled her nose at him. "They might have noticed something unusual. It's worth a shot."

The light show disappeared after a few minutes, leaving everyone full of uneasy questions. Was Dolos powering up or showing off? Apparently the only people who'd witnessed it were members of their party, but Neal wondered why he and Chloe hadn't seen anything. If the others were linked to Dolos, how had it happened? If insects were the transmission agent, it would be impossible to determine a pattern. They all had minor bites.

There were no other unusual sightings that evening. Neal was torn between wanting to go to town the next day and staying with the men for the field trip. Chloe and Dean would return to the ranch early in the morning to explore Scotts Bluff with them. Afterward the women would head for town.

After dinner, Neal called Mozzie. His delight over a possible connection to bees and honey could barely be contained. Once Neal had gotten him to calm down, he reported that they too had eaten honey products from Gering—in their case, cookies—the day of their unusual sightings. Since then they'd had no recurrence. Was it because he and Travis were now out of range of the trickster?

#

Peter surveyed the landscape from the North Overlook. He wished he could bottle up the crisp plains air to take home. He'd insisted on an early start before breakfast. The excuse he'd given was that so tourists wouldn't disturb any evidence, but the real reason was to enjoy the view at sunrise. And so what if the others were a little grumpy.

This was their first chance to explore the summit of Scotts Bluff Monument. It consisted of two main overlooks along with several outcrops. They'd left their cars in the parking lot and hiked up a trail to reach the vantage points. Peter was glad no one griped about the climb. Chloe had often made the ascent as a girl. The only problem they encountered this time was her desire to stop to examine every wildflower she found on the way.

"See any pterodactyls?" Neal murmured, coming from behind.

Peter smiled. "Not yet, but I can visualize them soaring over the plains." He turned to look at Neal. "How about you? Any sightings of baby bears, lion cubs, or any other cuddly creature who then transforms into your worst nightmare?"

"None at all I'm happy to report." He hesitated for a moment. "I hope you realize how badly I feel about what happened. This was supposed to be a carefree week for you and El."

"Don't worry about it. On the plus side, there haven't been any vampires. Besides, my tolerance level has increased by leaps and bounds over the past year. If only there hadn't been deaths associated with the incidents, I'd be inclined to write them off as harmless aberrations." He chuckled. "Can you imagine how ecstatic Travis must have been when he thought he'd found a tribble?"

Neal smiled. "Or how Mozzie felt to meet E.T.? The experiences remind me a little of the dreams Astrena gave. She could be a benevolent muse when she chose. Dolos doesn't have an evil reputation. His pranks weren't normally deadly, at least not in the myths. Something could have ticked him off. I hope it wasn't Astrena."

"Me too." Crowley didn't provide any advice on how to neutralize the trickster god. Chloe suggested that the banishment oil she and Maia had concocted could take care of Dolos, at least for a while, but if the Mt. Olympus where he dwelled was on Earth, it would only be a temporary solution.

Peter turned when he heard footsteps. Dean was approaching them, his right hand formed into a fist. "Found this by the edge of the overlook." He revealed several cracked pistachio shells on the palm of his hand. "I know what you're thinking. Most likely, a tourist left them behind. But there wasn't any other litter around."

Neal frowned. "Or they could be the sign of Dolos."

Peter took a slow breath. Was this the confirmation that their troubles with Greek gods weren't over? If so, he could honestly say he was glad they had a demon on their side. For all his faults, Crowley had pointed them to the culprit.

So far the only other person at White Collar who was aware of the current crisis was Travis, and he wouldn't tease Peter about not filling out a file report. Hughes had accepted the Winchesters working as consultants. What would he say to a demon who inhabited the body of a known fugitive?

#

The pistachios were the only clues they found on the summit. Chloe searched in vain for any signs of a ritual having been performed, such as wilted flowers, melted wax from candles, or a lingering aural presence. Dean had brought along his EMF meter, but any electromagnetic discharge had already dissipated.

Why had Dolos caused the light phenomenon? Was it simply to childishly boast of his power as Maia believed? She said the ancient gods reveled in such displays. If that was true, should Chloe take her cue from her young nieces and nephews who liked to show off?

When they returned to the ranch, Chloe booked a room for herself and Dean. The ranch was more expensive than their motel, but it would be a chance for Dean to live out his dream. The bedrooms were furnished with western themes. Dean had brought along his guitar. Perhaps she could persuade him and Peter to repeat their performance in New Jersey. They'd sung "Happy Trails" and the theme from _Rawhide_ with Mozzie when under the influence of a swamp demon. This time Neal would be along to sing with them. Although they had a trickster god to confront, no one was acting like dorks and best of all, she wasn't responsible for the current crisis.

The men took off with the fossil-collecting team shortly before the women headed into town. Chloe wished she'd thought of snapping a photo of Dean's ecstatic face when Peter ordered him to "Saddle up." She restrained her laughter to a chuckle when her Ravensword clambered on top of the horse. Chloe had taken horseback riding lessons as a child. If they could just bring this job to a quick resolution, they'd be able to relax at the ranch for a few days and go horseback riding together. Dean wouldn't look so much like a tenderfoot if he had a chance to practice. Her next technical writing assignment wasn't due to start for two weeks. Besides, if she and Dean did this job, didn't Sam, Maia, and Bobby owe them extra time off?

Chloe drove El and Sara into town in Dean's Impala. Elizabeth had offered the use of the SUV they'd rented in Denver, but Chloe had all her plant-collecting supplies in Dean's trunk. You never knew when you'd spot a wildflower along the roadside. Chloe always restrained herself to harvesting just a few leaves or seeds to avoid harming the plant.

For Elizabeth and Sara, it was their first time to ride in the Impala and that was an adventure in itself. Chloe had cleaned the interior before the trip. They didn't realize how lucky they were to be greeted by the scents of sage and rosemary when they took their seats.

Their first destination was the Parthenon bakery since it supplied the pastries to the ranch. The Parthenon was an old established landmark in Gering. A Greek family had started it in the 1950s. It was reputed to be the best Greek bakery in the High Plains, but that was likely of dubious significance. How many other Greek bakeries were there in the region?

Chloe parked the car a short distance away, thinking the others would enjoy a little window shopping on the way to the bakery.

"You were lucky to grow up in a small town," Sara said to Chloe as they passed the local quilt shop.

"I didn't think about it at the time, but I appreciate Gering more now. The surrounding prairies are where I learned to love wildflowers."

"Something similar happened to me," Elizabeth said. "I grew up in Aurora, Illinois, close to Chicago. Those early school trips to Chicago museums sparked an interest in art. What about you, Sara?"

"I called Anaheim home. That's where Disneyland is. My mother worked as a seamstress for the company. I'm sure I inherited my love for period costumes from her."

Elizabeth chuckled. "I can picture you with Minnie Mouse ears. You and Neal will be in Los Angeles for Aidan and Keiko's wedding. Are you taking him to Disneyland?"

"Of course! We're staying at a hotel next to the resort."

"Will this be Neal's first time to meet your parents?" Chloe asked.

"I wish that could happen, but Mom passed away several years ago, and as for my father"—Sara made an awkward shrug—"he's out of the picture too." She smiled, taking away Chloe's embarrassment at having asked what appeared to be an uncomfortable subject. "I assume Dean met your parents?"

"He did."

"So, how did it go?"

"From his standpoint, fine. Dean likes to introduce himself as an FBI consultant, and now it's at least occasionally true. I'd lectured my parents not to bring up any sensitive subjects before we arrived."

"Like marriage and grandchildren?" Elizabeth asked knowingly.

"Exactly," Chloe said firmly. "Luckily Dad's into cars too, so we had something to talk about." She didn't know which item from the long list of forbidden topics would make her more nervous, but it was probably witchcraft. Mom occasionally joked about the Bishops' famous witch ancestor, but for her dad, it was a sensitive subject. Chloe remembered asking him about Bridget Bishop when she was writing a paper in elementary school. He'd sat her down and lectured her about how witches didn't exist.

Neither one of her parents read her novels. They appeared resigned to her following her own path, and as long as she didn't kill anyone they wouldn't make waves. She loved her parents but sometimes she felt that they were a different species from her. They wouldn't begin to understand the connection she had with Maia and their druid ancestor Airmid. As for Dean, how could she possibly explain how she felt about him when she wasn't sure herself?

When she discovered he was the boy she'd met at the Oregon Trail Days festival so many years ago, the conversation they'd had about zombies returned with crystalline sharpness. Dean didn't make much of the incident, calling it a freakish coincidence. She'd played along, acting as if she agreed, but that wasn't true. She was convinced Airmid had brought them together, and it wasn't the only time. How else to explain their meeting in that small town in New Jersey? Chloe had written about Dean as Ravensword in her novels long before New Jersey.

"Is that the bakery up ahead?" Sara asked, breaking into her thoughts.

"Yes, we used to get my birthday cakes there. They make traditional breads and pastries in addition to Greek specialties."

"This could be a tempting spot for a Greek god," Sara said. "Supposedly the gods lived off honey and ambrosia. Would Dolos come here for his sugar fix?"

"But how would we recognize him?" El asked. "Simply because someone likes pistachios doesn't mean that they're an immortal descended to Earth."

Sara offered a mischievous smile. "Maybe he'll be wearing a toga?"

"Then should we as well?" El shot back. "We could use our feminine wiles to lure him into a trap."

Chloe didn't comment. She suspected they were controlling any qualms over a confrontation by making light of it. Dean's favorite theory was that Dolos had shapeshifted into a bee farmer, but he could be anyone—a man or a woman. When she returned to New Haven, she needed to research spells on how to prevent a shapeshifter from changing his form. Surely one existed.

In the meantime, they had few options. Dean agreed that the most effective solution would be to draw him out by making targets of themselves. That's why he'd reluctantly signed off on them splitting into two groups. If Dolos was targeting them because of what they'd done to Astrena, he couldn't strike everyone at once.

They'd all agreed to never be alone and spritzed themselves with spell repellent, a floral potion she and Maia had distilled. But no one knew if it would work against Dolos.

When they entered the bakery, the dangling bell on the door jingled a greeting which was reinforced by the delicious aroma of hot bread. Even more welcoming was the sight of Violeta behind the counter. Chloe had known her since seventh grade. Violeta and her family had immigrated from Guatemala to Gering. It was thanks to Violeta's help that Chloe had survived Spanish. Those classes were an early indicator of her future struggles with Latin. Chloe's felt her cheeks burn as she recalled all the trouble she'd caused by mispronouncing her first spell.

"Chloe? ¡Hola!" Violeta rushed out from behind the counter to give her an enthusiastic hug. "When did you arrive in town?"

"Last weekend. I came back for my high school reunion. When did you move back to Gering?" Violeta was a year ahead of her. She'd obtained a scholarship to attend the University of New Mexico.

"I was planning to stay in Albuquerque, but when my dad became ill, I came home to help take care of him. I'd always liked baking. The Parthenon was looking for help." She shrugged. "I've been working here for a year."

"I could have lived off your cookies," Chloe said with a nostalgic sigh. It was probably best for her waistline that Violeta had moved away.

#

Sara began checking through the display of gift items as Chloe reminisced with her friend. A poster was on the wall for the upcoming Oregon Trail Days festival Chloe had told them about, and the store appeared to be stocking up with tourist items. There were marzipan cowboys, cowgirls, covered wagons, and an assortment of other western-themed items to choose from.

El nudged her. "They even have marzipan jackalopes. Should we buy one for Dean?"

Sara grinned. "Definitely. Too bad they don't have any dinosaurs for Peter."

El picked up the cellophane-wrapped candy and read the label. Her brow furrowed. "This isn't good," she murmured. "Almond meal and sugar are usually the main ingredients of marzipan. These are made with honey instead and are flavored with ground pistachios."

Sara stared at her. "Chloe told me the festival attracts people from all over Nebraska and the neighboring states. Could Dolos be planning to infect them all?"

"If we're right about honey, he could be." El nodded to a display of honey. "These all come from the Gayfeather Hive. The label says it's an organic farm in Scottsbluff. I'll buy a jar."

"That farm should be our next stop." Sara approached the counter. Chloe's friend Violeta had dark brown hair and laughing brown eyes. It was difficult to imagine she could a trickster god, but with a shapeshifter, all bets were off.

"Does Alex Hatzis still run the bakery?" Chloe asked.

"He retired six years ago. His son Will is in charge now," Violeta said.

Chloe broke into a laugh. "Now I know why you're working here. Didn't you have a crush on him in high school?"

Violeta blushed as she grinned. "Still do, but you remember how shy he is. Lately it's grown worse."

When El gave a short exclamation, Sara spun around just in time to see her leave the shop. "I'll be right back," Sara said, taking off after her.

She found El on the sidewalk, looking around frantically. "Did you see him?" she asked Sara.

"Who?"

"Peter. He was riding a horse and waving at me. Where did he go?"

Sara looked at her worriedly. Gering was quite a distance from the guest ranch. It wouldn't have been possible for Peter to ride here so quickly on horseback. Was El experiencing a hallucination?

A cargo van with the logo of the bakery was parked in front of the store. The side door opened, and a handsome man with dark hair smiled at them. "Are you looking for Peter? I'll take you to him."

An odd feeling of tranquility swept over Sara. "Is Neal there too?" she asked. Some tiny voice deep within her was yelling at her, demanding to be heard, but she ignored it. Instinctively she knew the man could be trusted. 

"Yes, and Dean as well. You'll find my van very luxurious. Please take a seat."

What a marvelous idea. El was already stepping inside. Sara had never met anyone so charming in her life. She'd gladly follow him anywhere.

* * *

_Notes: Yikes, never a good idea to hitch a ride with a trickster. The problems multiply like jackalopes in Chapter 4: Bluffsmanship._


	4. Bluffsmanship

**Larkspur Guest Ranch. June 20, 2006. Tuesday afternoon.**

Neal approached Lucy and gently stroked her cheek. His reward was a breathy snort as the chestnut mare snuffled his hand, looking for treats.

Neal had been riding the horse since Saturday. Thanks to Sara's tip that Lucy would appreciate generous bribes of apple, they'd become friends. He wouldn't win any awards for his horsemanship but he hadn't fallen off yet, so he was counting the experience a success.

At the moment, Peter was happily sifting through the rock bed for fossils under a blazing sun. Neal and Lucy were lounging under the large tarp tent the ranch provided for those seeking shade. There were no trees at the digging site, an area that had once been the edge of a glacier. Neal grabbed his water bottle. He wouldn't mind a little leftover glacial ice around now.

"I thought I'd find you in here," Dean said wandering into the tent. "Is there any beer in the cooler?"

"Just water and sports drinks, either orange or lime." Neal raised the lid. "What's your poison?"

Dean took off his hat and wiped the sweat off his forehead with the palm of his hand. "Make it lime. I'll pretend it's a Margarita. Man, I should have bought a straw hat. How did Clint Eastwood manage a poncho and hat under the sun?"

Neal grinned and tossed him a bottle. "You're asking the wrong person. It was even hotter the day Travis and Mozzie explored the crop circle. No wonder Travis thought they were suffering from heatstroke."

Dean unscrewed the cap and took a glug. "No other sightings from them, I gather?"

"No, and I haven't seen anything either. I spoke with Sara as they were entering Gering. She was pleased to report she hadn't spotted any giraffe monsters on the way to town."

Dean shrugged and plopped into a camp chair. "It was a long shot that we'd provoke Dolos into making a move. We still have a few days. You're not leaving till Friday. We can stay around for a while too."

Neal counted it a major victory that he wasn't being tormented by some tentacle-armed terror. He'd been plagued by nightmares about sea monsters over the past several months. He'd thought he had the problem licked in May, but in London, his dreams were invaded once more. Sara believed it was a combination of worrying about Mozzie, the stolen Turner painting of sea monsters, and the Ood episode of _Doctor Who_. The fact that Cthulhu, Rolf's silent partner, was constantly in the back of his mind didn't help. But the problem resolved itself on its own when he returned to New York. All in all, a brief relapse wasn't anything to stress about.

Dean took a deep breath. "Man, I love the smell of horse sweat. There's something so peaceful about listening to their snorts."

Neal chuckled. "Did you like to dress up as a cowboy when you were a kid?"

Dean shook his head, his face growing thoughtful. "I didn't have much time for make-believe. How about you?"

"I was more interested in being a swashbuckling pirate."

"And now you fence. That's close enough to count as living your dream."

 _And I've also done my share of looting._ "Maybe someday you'll have a ranch and raise horses."

Dean raised an eyebrow. "Little house on the prairie? Chloe would like that, and, hell, I would too. But kicking back isn't something hunters do."

"Why not?" Neal challenged. "I used to think like you. So did Mozzie, but we're starting to put down roots. You may decide to as well. Just because you're a hunter doesn't mean that you can't have a personal life too."

He shrugged. "I'd probably get bored after a while."

"Don't tell me you'd miss monsters. Just think, you could open a roadhouse, make your own brews, fleece the customers at poker."

Dean grinned. "You got me pegged. I could sell pizza and pies and call the place The Pie Hole." He propped his cowboy boots on the cooler. "There'd have to be an area for karaoke."

Peter's arrival in the tent cut short further daydreaming. He clutched a chunk of rock like it was the Holy Grail, his face brick-red from a combination of sun and excitement. There was no question about what Peter the Dinosaur-Hunter had wanted to be when he was a child. 

As Peter described in excruciating detail the type of prehistoric critter the fossil might have come from, Neal's thoughts wandered. Once he and Sara were in Los Angeles, he was banking on his dream coming one step closer to reality. He hoped the nudge he'd given Dean might cause him to take a fresh look at his own future.

They headed back to the ranch shortly afterward. Leaving their horses in the capable hands of the ranch staff, they took off to their rooms to get cleaned up. The women would return any minute from their expedition. Neal placed his cell phone in the bathroom where it would be handy while he showered. He was drying himself off when he heard it ring. But instead of Sara, it was Chloe.

Wrapping a towel around his waist, he answered the call. "Hi, Chloe. Any success in town?"

"I think we got Dolos's attention." At the note of strain in Chloe's voice, Neal went on high alert.

"What happened?" he demanded.

"Elizabeth and Sara have both disappeared. They stepped outside the bakery while I was talking with the sales clerk. They were gone for only a couple of minutes before I checked on them, but I couldn't find them anywhere. Neal, I tried to call Dean before you, and he's not answering his phone." A note of panic had crept into her voice.

"I'll go to his room and also notify Peter. Are you in the car?"

"Yeah, I was going to drive to the ranch."

"Good. Don't try to find them on your own. Come to my room when you arrive."

#

"Peter and Dean are also missing?" Chloe swallowed, her hazel eyes looking desperately at Neal for confirmation that she'd somehow misunderstood.

Neal guided her into his room. "The last I saw them was when we split up to take showers. I checked their rooms and didn't find anything suspicious like, for instance, pistachio shells." He didn't share the details of how he'd picked their room locks to search their quarters and was glad Chloe didn't ask. "I spoke with the staff in the lobby and no one saw them leave, but since our room doors open onto the outside, the odds were against them seeing anything. Could Dolos have teleported them out of their rooms?"

Chloe dropped into a leather chair in front of the window. "We don't know what he's capable of. Why were we spared?"

Neal pulled over the desk chair to sit in front of her. "I've been trying to come up with a possible cause. Perhaps his power doesn't work against witches. You have a gift for sensing spirits. That could be indicative of other talents you don't know about."

"Like armor against a god?" She exhaled slowly. "Let's hope that's true. We need an edge. Your theory could also explain why you weren't affected."

"How so?" Neal asked, not following her reasoning.

"The potion Maia and I used to sever the link between you and Astrena could still be protecting you."

"Like a flu shot? God, I hope that's true."

"How are we going to find them?" she asked worriedly.

"Peter and I wear GPS watches, and Travis brought along gear which should pinpoint the signal. But we'll need to wait a little while longer to find out if he'll be able to. When I tried to call him, he was out of range. I left a message. If he doesn't call back in a few minutes, I'll contact the tech lab at White Collar."

Neal hoped that wouldn't be necessary. He knew Peter would rather not involve the FBI. Hughes was looking for advancement opportunities for Peter. Having a note in his file that he'd been abducted by a Greek god wouldn't be viewed favorably. Chloe was biting her lip and Neal sought to reassure her. "This could be exactly what we intended. We knew we were making targets of ourselves. Peter's signal should be able to lead us to them."

"If he hasn't already transported them to Mt. Olympus," Chloe said gloomily. "He could have abandoned them there and then returned to Gering."

"We'll soon know. Do you have enough of your banishment potion for two swords?"

She took a breath and nodded. "There are two swords in the trunk of the Impala. I've never used one but all we have to do is touch Dolos for the oil to work." She turned her head to glance out the window. A front was coming through with thunderstorms predicted for the evening. Already a few advance clouds were rolling in.

Neal's cell phone rang and he grabbed it. "Travis, you got my text?"

"Yeah." There was background static, but Neal could hear him well enough to understand the gist. "I pulled up the coordinates before calling you. The signal is coming from the North Overlook of Scotts Bluff Monument. What kind of trouble did Peter get into?"

"We think Dolos abducted him along with El, Sara, and Dean."

"Damn. I wish we were closer. We could leave immediately and get there around midnight."

"That will be too late. Chloe and I have a plan. We'll keep in touch." Neal ended the call before Travis could object. Travis and Mozzie had already shown they were sensitive to the trickster's spells, and for a stealth attack, the fewer people who were involved, the better.

"Do you know of any spells that could incapacitate a god?" Neal asked.

Chloe shook her head. "On the drive back, I tried to think of something that would work, but Maia and I have focused on defensive spells. That banishment potion is the most powerful tool we've got."

"How about calling up a spirit?" Neal asked. "You were able to summon that nocnitsa in New Jersey. Could you summon a . . . umm . . . friendly spirit to even the odds?"

Chloe's eyes widened. "Like Airmid?" 

"Who's she?" Neal asked, unable to place the name.

"A druid goddess." Chloe wet her lips nervously. "Maia and I are her descendants."

"How do you know? I didn't think they'd left any written records."

"Maia and I were able to summon her. She called us her daughters. She may heed our prayers, especially if . . ." Her words trailed off.

"If what?" Neal prompted.

"If Maia and I simultaneously call her, our voices could be stronger. Also, Maia seems to have a particularly strong bond with her. Airmid may be more inclined to respond to her pleas."

"It's worth a shot." The North Overlook was where they'd discovered the pistachio shells this morning. It was marked by steep bluffs. Was Dolos reconnoitering the site for a future ceremony? As Neal recalled there were few shrubs to give him cover. The best he might be able to achieve was to lure Dolos away from any captives so Chloe would have a chance to free them while he somehow kept the god focused on him.

#

Neal had done some crazy things in his life, but driving with Chloe to the summit of Scotts Bluff to take on a Greek trickster god had to rank near the top. All they knew was that Peter's watch was somewhere on the overlook. They were gambling their friends were there too but then what? If Dolos was there, he wasn't going to just stand there and let Neal rap him with a sword.

Perhaps it was for the best Peter wasn't with him. He would have insisted on a feasible plan before attempting a rescue. A wing and a prayer wouldn't cut it. But Neal intended to provide the wings while Chloe took care of the prayers.

The potion Chloe had concocted was based on althea root, the same ingredient that had helped summon the nocnitsa in New Jersey. Chloe had been on the phone with Maia who was preparing the identical potion in New Haven. At Chloe's signal, both women would light a candle to heat their concoction and cast an intercession spell. Neal placed minimal odds on it having any effect, but it would keep Chloe out of the confrontation.

When they arrived at the parking lot, it was midafternoon, but the approaching storm clouds made it seem later in the day. Theirs was the only car present. Only a fool—or a Greek god—would want to be on top of the bluff in a thunderstorm.

"Wait for my text to start the spell," Neal said as Chloe opened the trunk of the Impala. "Dolos may not be around. Airmid could accuse you of crying wolf."

"We have no idea how long it will take for her to appear assuming she decides to help us," Chloe objected, handing him a sword. "By then Dolos could have ensnared you too."

She had a point. Neal had made the suggestion primarily to keep her out of harm's way. The chance of Airmid lending assistance was not anything he'd bank on.

Chloe removed a glass vial from an insulated container. While Neal held the sword flat on the palms of his hands, she carefully dripped the amber-colored banishing oil along its surface. The oil appeared to soak into the silver. She then handed him a second vial. "This is spell repellant." She smiled wistfully. "Dean likes to say 'A little dab'll do ya.' "

"We'll get him back and the others too," Neal said, trying to fill her with the confidence he had precious little of. "I feel like a medieval knight going into battle. You've anointed me with oil. Dolos won't know what hit him."

But as he crept along the path, Bilbo in Smaug's lair seemed a more appropriate comparison. He was forced to rely on the sparse patches of vegetation for cover. After a few paces, the trail forked. According to the sign, the right fork, a wide concrete path, led straight to the summit. The left trail appeared less traveled. It led to a vista of the Badlands. If Dolos had abducted the entire group, surely he'd pick an isolated area to hold them.

Neal chose the left fork, keeping a tight grip on the sword. The blade was relatively short and thick, not at all like his fencing blades. It felt awkward, but then so did the entire situation. As he drew near the edge of the bluff, he lowered into a crouch, checking the trail for any loose pebble which could alert a wary god.

He rounded the bend and froze. Sara, Peter, Dean, and El—they were all there, perched on a rocky outcrop with arms outspread as if they were ready to launch themselves into the air.

Behind them stood a handsome man with olive skin and dark hair. He sported jeans and a western shirt and appeared to be in his thirties. He was about Neal's height but with a more powerful build.

Dolos spun around and smiled straight at Neal. "At last, you've decided to join the party!" He beckoned him forward. "Come join your friends. You will all take flight together."

Neal felt a buzzing sensation in his head. Was Dolos trying to establish a link? If Neal acted like he was under his influence, perhaps he could draw near before the god suspected anything was wrong. Neal relaxed into a blissful smile, fixing his eyes solely on Dolos even as mentally he was screaming to the others to back away. He sauntered forward, holding the sword at his side with a relaxed grip.

"Where would you like me to stand?" Neal adopting a goopy-eyed expression.

"Next to Peter," Dolos said, demonstrating he knew at least one of their names. How much else did he know about them?

His captives appeared unaware of Neal's arrival. Their eyes were glazed, as they gazed unblinkingly forward. If Dolos told them to walk one pace forward, they'd fall off a steep embankment, risking serious injury or even death.

The storm clouds grew darker as Neal approached Dolos. He pretended to trip on a rock and fell to the ground. Rolling forward, he slashed at the god with his sword.

But Dolos was even faster. In the blink of an eye, he transformed his attire into an Errol Flynn look, complete with plumed hat, saber, and pirate attire. "You dare challenge me?" he thundered. "You'll feel the sting of my steel!" He twirled his sword and plunged it into the ground where Neal's chest had been a second earlier.

Neal lunged with his blade. All he had to do was nick him for the potion to work, but Dolos kicked the sword out of his grasp. It landed several yards away in a clump of thorny bushes. Neal jumped to his feet and ran for it.

Dolos leaped over his head, landing in front of him, and lunged at his chest.

Neal ducked, scooped up a handful of gravel, and threw it at his face. Leaping sideways, he hoped to get behind the bushes and grab his sword from the rear.

Dolos blew the gravel away before it reached him. "Enough!" he roared. "You may not obey me but others will." He flicked his wrist at the bushes and flames began to lick the branches.

Suddenly a massive bolt of lightning ripped through the sky and struck Dolos's saber. With a roar of pain, he dropped it on the ground.

Neal dove to the ground and scrabbled for his sword as raindrops began to pelt down. Dolos seized his ankles and tried to drag him away. With a frantic scramble, Neal's fingers reached the sword. Twisting in Dolos's grip, he slashed at the god's arm.

#

"Well, this sucks." Dolos surveyed gloomily the familiar mountain top. Just when he was beginning to thoroughly enjoy the game, he found himself back on Mt. Olympus.

Alone once more.

Still, for a trial run, he'd been surprisingly successful.

Dolos had amused himself with the locals in northern Greece for centuries. Albania, Bulgaria, and Macedonia had provided sufficient variety for entertainment. But his life changed when the rift to Oblivion opened on the outskirts of Edessa. From that point on, he could visit his cousin Thanatos whenever he chose.

The millennia of separation were finally over. When Thanatos's father Erebus had first banished him to Oblivion, there were no rifts between their worlds. The one in Edessa had been formed by a recent earthquake, proving that every natural disaster could lead to a goldmine of opportunity.

A true shame Thanatos couldn't leave his domain, but it didn't matter. Dolos was happy to help his cousin out, especially since Thanatos showed him how he'd be able to blend the indigo mushrooms of Oblivion with his potent honey to create even more powerful links to mortals. When Thanatos suggested experimenting on some acquaintances in the upperworld, Dolos was happy to oblige.

Thanatos has disguised himself in New York as Quint Worland, a Columbia University computer science student. Dolos had opted for a much more satisfying role. Mortals were as fond as ever for the nectar of the gods, and Dolos had been rightfully proud of his sweet temptations. He'd carried out his cousin's instructions to the letter. Now he'd have fun on his own terms.

Truth be told, he was growing rather bored with the bakery. He'd miss the charming Violeta though. That freak bolt of lightning wrecked his plans to seduce her shortly before departing Nebraska for new thrills. It was curious that he hadn't been able to bend Chloe and Neal to his will. What was up with that? Perhaps Thanatos knew.

Dolos chuckled. Thanatos was right when he predicted Dolos would find the group entertaining. Diverse interests unlike any he'd sampled in the local population. Perhaps he should pay them a return visit someday. What would Thanatos want in exchange for more of his mushrooms?

* * *

_Notes: The Pie Hole is an Easter egg to Penna's delightful story_ [ _Demons, Drive-ins and Dives_ ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23622193) _in the Supernatural fandom. If you're curious about my current writing projects, I've written about them for our blog. The post is called_ _[February 2021 Writing Adventures](https://pennasilbrithconversation.blogspot.com/2021/03/february-2021-writing-adventures.html) _ _._


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